


Tales to Tell in the Dark

by mushroomtale, Polomonkey



Category: Bluebeard - All Media Types, Merlin (TV), Sleeping Beauty (Fairy Tale), The Little Mermaid - All Media Types
Genre: Cover Art, Fairy Tale Retellings, Horror, M/M, Magic, Murder, Mutilation, Rape
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-30
Updated: 2015-10-30
Packaged: 2018-04-28 20:30:24
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,356
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5104730
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mushroomtale/pseuds/mushroomtale, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Polomonkey/pseuds/Polomonkey
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A Prince stumbles across a beautiful man asleep in a castle...<br/>A merman longs for the handsome noble he sees above the waves...<br/>One orphan courts another in a town where young men are going missing...</p>
<p>Three classic fairytales, given a horror twist.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Beauty, Sleeping

**Author's Note:**

> View the art on [Tumblr](http://mushroomtale-fanart.tumblr.com/post/132183343926/mood-music-storytelling-by-soleil-tell-me).

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Huge thanks and appreciation to Mushroom for the beautiful art, and for cheering me on when I was angsting and flailing about these stories! She didn't let me give up and she provided the incentive of wonderful pictures, all credit goes to her! 
> 
> Please note that these are three standalone stories with individual chapter warnings, and can be read separately if you wish to skip one.
> 
> Warnings for this chapter: rape, somnophilia, murder, cannibalism reference. Based on the original Sleeping Beauty tale [Sun, Moon, and Talia](http://uncoy.com/2006/05/sleeping_beauty_1.html) by Giambattista Basile

In a small kingdom far away, there was a foolish King. Foolish because he did not listen to advice. The advice that the good fairy Morgana gave when his first and only son was born.

“Invite all the fairies in the land to the child’s christening, and they will bless him with great wonders. But leave none unasked. The wrath of a fairy scorned is terrible to behold.”

But the King did not heed this warning. He sent no invite to the fairy Nimueh, fearing her foul temper would disrupt the festivities. And so his son’s fate was sealed. For Nimueh soon learned of the slight and she was furious beyond words.

On the day of the christening, the fairies lined up to give the baby Merlin their blessing.

“I give him the gift of great beauty, that he may entrance all who look on him,” Morgana said.

“I give him the gift of great fertility, that he may bear many strong and hearty sons,” Morgause said.

“But what shall my gift be, sisters?” came a voice at the back. And the court gasped to see Nimueh appear from thin air, draped in robes of black.

“I wanted to give the babe something special,” Nimueh said sweetly, gliding to the cradle as all looked on in fear. “Imagine my dismay when I found no invitation extended to me.”

“Nimueh,” the King pleaded.

“Hush, Balinor,” Nimueh murmured. “He shall have my gift anyway."

She pressed her hand to the child’s head and several guards started forward, already too late to stop her.

“I hereby give Merlin the gift of a long and healthy life,” she said, and the court sighed in relief. But the fairy was not finished.

“If,” she said, holding up a hand. “He does not prick his finger on a spindle before his eighteenth year. For if he does, he will fall into a sleep so deep that none shall awaken him.”

Then she vanished in a swirl of smoke, just as the guards reached her.

King Balinor grieved his foolishness and set about trying to undo the damage forthwith. He ordered all the spindles in the kingdom to be burnt, and placed every protection possible around his beloved son. And for seventeen years it seemed as if the curse might not come to pass. 

But on the eve of his eighteenth birthday, Nimueh appeared in disguise to Merlin and tricked him. She led him to a spindle and coaxed him into pressing his finger to the needle. Immediately, a splinter of wood broke off and lodged itself deep within his skin. Merlin fell to the ground unconscious and Nimueh disappeared into the night, vengeance won at last.

 

Every physician and fairy in the land was called to Merlin’s bedside but none could wake him. In his grief, Balinor had his son laid out in a castle deep within the woods. He left the good fairy Morgana to watch over him and journeyed off to far-away lands, looking to atone for his terrible mistakes. 

For ten years, Merlin slept on.

 

***

 

In a large kingdom not so far away, there was a cruel King. Cruel because his beloved wife had died in childbirth with his only son Arthur, and had left him lonely and bitter. King Uther swore to keep Arthur close to him always, and rarely let him leave his sight. But cruel fathers breed wily sons and Arthur soon learned how to slip from the palace for a few hours, and ride out on his horse in search of adventure.

One day, the Prince rode further than he’d ever rode before, and came across a little castle deep within the forest. He had ridden hard and was parched with thirst, so he dismounted to knock on the door and ask for a drink. But there was no answer.

Being the curious sort, Arthur pushed the door open and ventured inside. He called out his arrival, requesting a cup of wine for his thirst. Only silence greeted him.

Unbeknownst to Arthur, someone did hear his call. The fairy Morgana listened in the darkness and bided her time. She hoped that perhaps Nimueh’s enchantment could be broken by true love’s kiss, and she further hoped that the golden haired intruder might be the one to wake Merlin. So she let her magic guide him towards the tower where her charge lay sleeping.

Arthur crept upstairs, his thirst quite forgotten in his quest to explore the house. Something compelled him to start at the top, and so he climbed the steps to the tower room. The door swung open easily, and he stepped inside.

Arthur let out a soft gasp.

There was a man lying on the bed, the most beautiful man Arthur had ever seen. He was lithe and delicate; skin as white as snow and lips as red as rubies. He was sound asleep and a tiny smile played upon his face, as though his dreams were sweet and pleasant. 

Arthur fell in love with a single glance. An embroidery stitched above the bed spelt out the name Merlin, and Arthur said it out loud in wonder. He crossed the room without thought, intent on waking this heavenly creature to profess his affection. But when he shook the slim shoulder, Merlin did not stir. When he tapped the pale cheeks, Merlin did not stir. When he called out his name, Merlin did not stir. 

All at once, the tales his nursemaid Gwen used to tell came back to him. This Merlin must be under an enchantment, to sleep without waking in such a way. And Arthur knew that the way to break an enchantment like this was with true love’s kiss.

He had no doubt that he was the man’s true love. It was up to him to end this cruel spell, and take Merlin back to his kingdom. Eager with anticipation, Arthur bent down to press a kiss to the man’s still lips.

Merlin slept on.

Frustrated, Arthur tried again.

Merlin did not wake.

Arthur climbed upon the bed and took Merlin in his arms, bending his head to claim the man’s lips once and for all.

Merlin didn’t so much as flicker.

Arthur was not accustomed to his plans being thwarted. But he was called wily for a reason, and so he sat back on the bed to ponder this conundrum.

Merlin was his intended; Arthur knew it in his heart. But the spell was not so easily broken. It was beyond Arthur’s ken, and yet he was loath to leave the castle unsatisfied, for who knew when he might have chance to return?

Thus the Prince decided that if the beautiful man would not wake, then he would take his pleasure from his sleeping form. He would have his way and leave to think on the problem further, and he would take the memory of his intended’s sweet surrender with him.

Pleased with his decision, Arthur pressed a tender kiss to the beautiful man’s forehead. Then he stripped Merlin naked and laid him down on the bedcovers. 

His love was so perfect and untouched, so pure and unblemished. Arthur caressed him at his leisure, admiring the soft rise and fall of the young man’s chest as he slept on. He peppered kisses along his neck, all the way down to his smooth white stomach. Then he gently parted Merlin’s legs and pressed himself inside his unresisting body, savouring the warmth within. 

It was unlike coupling with any partner before. Arthur found that the stillness and silence of his intended made his own pleasure even greater. His lover was so docile; his body completely submissive to Arthur’s desires. Merlin was sweet and pliant in his arms, breathing slow and steady as Arthur thrust out his ecstasy.

He was sad when it was over, regretful to leave the beautiful man behind him. But it was late, and Arthur had duties to attend to. He dropped one last kiss onto Merlin’s parted lips, and took his leave, swearing someday to return to the castle and break the enchantment once and for all.

When Morgana entered the room and saw Merlin lying naked on the bed, her blood thickened with horror. She cleaned him up and tucked him back in, but the damage was done. Her magic told her that Merlin was already with child.

 

***

 

One year later, Prince Arthur found himself on the same lonely path through the forest. He did not recognise the way until the little castle loomed before him. Arthur’s heart quickened with excitement and he made haste to enter, hoping to find his love inside. 

Merlin was indeed still lying in the tower room, but one thing had changed. There was a cradle by the bed, and Arthur looked inside to find a flaxen haired babe gurgling within. On impulse he picked it up and held it to him, a strange sense of recognition flooding through him. 

It was at that point that fairy Morgana burst in, and the room went dark.

“How dare you return here?” she said, but Arthur did not fear even a fairy, and he looked her in the eye.

“This is my son. Merlin bore him of me.”

“It is no business of yours,” Morgana said dangerously, “what may have happened after you violated my charge.”

Arthur laughed, long and loud.

“I violated nothing. He is my intended and I took only what was freely given. Now stand aside, you foolish woman.”

“Not this time,” Morgana said, and she snatched the flaxen headed babe from Arthur’s arms, laying it gently next to Merlin on the bed. “You will leave this place.”

“Stand aside,” Arthur said again, and he drew his sword.

So occupied were they, neither noticed when the babe latched onto Merlin’s finger, suckling like it hoped for mother’s milk. So none saw when the suckling drew the splinter from the spindle out at long last, and the babe coughed it onto the ground.

But they turned when Merlin spoke.

“What’s happening? Where am I?”

Arthur recovered first, and took advantage of Morgana’s fatal distraction. He raised his sword and sliced off her head with one swing.

Merlin screamed aloud and Arthur rushed to his side.

“Fear not, little one. I have vanquished the evil that would keep us apart. Now none can come between us.”

Merlin stared up at Arthur.

“I do not know you,” he said at last.

“And yet we have lain together already,” Arthur said with a smile. “You have borne me this child, our beautiful son. And now I will take you back to my kingdom and we shall be married forthwith.”

“L-lain together?” Merlin said.

“Yes, little one,” Arthur said tenderly. “You’ve been asleep for a long time. I came upon you one charmed day, and you yielded your sweet body to me. A year hence you have awoken, and thus fate shines its favour upon us.”

Merlin wept to hear the truth, and Arthur was touched by this outpouring of sentiment. His beloved was overcome with emotion to hear the happy tale of their entanglement, and the Prince’s heart swelled with pride. Tenderly, Arthur lifted Merlin from the bed and carried him to his waiting horse, ready to bring them home.

 

***

 

Arthur’s kingdom rejoiced to hear of the Prince’s imminent wedding, but there was one who was displeased. King Uther had better plans for Arthur than marrying a Prince whose own kingdom had long since fallen into wrack and ruin. He hated Merlin on sight and he swore he’d see him dead before he’d let him wed his son.

The wedding was three day’s hence and Uther put his plan in motion straight away. First, he must be rid of the bastard child. So he called the nursemaid Gwen to him, and bid her take the babe to the kitchens, and have Cook kill and roast it for their supper.

But Gwen was good at heart and could not bear to do what Uther commanded. She hid the babe in her own room, and took a new born lamb to the Cook to be prepared instead.

That night Uther served his son and Merlin what he thought was their own child, and trembled with glee to see how Arthur enjoyed the meal. 

The next day Uther sent Arthur on an errand out of the palace, and then ordered a great fire to be built in the courtyard. He called Merlin to him, and told him to make his peace on earth, as he would surely burn hereafter.

“Let me embrace my child one last time,” Merlin begged, and the cruel King laughed.

“You embraced your child last night when I fed him to you for supper,” he said, and Merlin screamed out in horror, believing he had devoured his own son.

Uther felt no pity, for he was heartless indeed, and simply bade Merlin take off his fine clothes and prepare for his end.

As Merlin undressed piece by piece, he wailed and lamented loud enough for half the castle to hear. And Prince Arthur, riding home nearby, heard the cries of his beloved. He quickened his speed, and came upon the courtyard just as the merciless King was about to push Merlin into the fire.

“Stop!” Arthur shouting, jumping from his horse and drawing his sword. “What means this, father?”

“Your whore is about to burn,” came the unrepentant reply. “And his bastard child lies half-digested in your belly, son of mine.”

At these hateful words, Arthur let out a bellow of pure rage and pushed his sinful father into the blaze. He then shouted for the Cook to be brought forward, to burn for her part in this heinous deed.

But Gwen the nursemaid came forth instead.

“The Cook roasted nothing more than a baby lamb for you, sire, for I had secreted the babe away to safety. Here he is.”

And she held the child aloft. Merlin snatched up his son and there was much weeping and joy to see the child unharmed and the evil King vanquished.

 

***

 

Merlin and Arthur were married the next day. Arthur was perfectly happy. He was King of many lands, he had a beautiful husband by his side, and a strapping young son to inherit his title one day.

But his happiness did not last. For his beautiful husband was much more trouble than he had expected. Merlin was angry and embittered about the circumstances of their first meeting. He made scenes and behaved badly at court; he threatened to run away and to take their son with him.

Arthur was amazed by Merlin’s churlishness. He had woken the man from his sleep, had given him everything he ever wanted. Merlin had repaid him with nothing but ingratitude and resentment. 

But Arthur was still the same wily man he had always been and so he hatched a plan. He sought out the fairy Nimueh, long since ostracised for her malevolent ways. And he brought gold enough to tempt her, gold enough to restore some of her former glory.

In return she gave him a potion. A potion to bring his happiness back again. A potion to restore things to the way they should be.

He slipped Merlin the potion that very night, and his love did not wake the next morning, nor the morning after, nor the morning after that. The people mourned as Arthur announced, with a sad sigh and a solemn air, that the curse had returned to claim his husband once more.

He had Merlin moved into a room in the highest tower, and forbad anyone from entering, on pain of death. 

But Arthur visited nightly. Each day he counted down the dismal hours until he could be with his love again. To caress his sweet face, to kiss his ruby lips, to hold his beautiful and pliant husband in his arms. To rest assured that nothing could ever wake his sleeping darling again.

And they lived happily ever after.


	2. The Little Merman

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for mutilation/body changes

Once upon a time, there was a little merman named Merlin. He had jet black hair and sea blue eyes and his long silver tail shone with every colour of the sun. When he sang, the corals themselves trembled with delight, and often other merfolk would beg him to regale them with a song as he passed by. He lived a life of ease and contentment, playing with his siblings in the shoals and reefs, swimming all day without a care.

And yet the little merman was not happy. Despite the wonders all around him, Merlin longed for a life he could not have: a life above the waves. From an early age he dreamed about living on the shore amongst the humans he so loved, learning all of their customs and ways. For years he had collected debris that had sunk beneath the surface, goblets and mirrors and trinkets, sweet reminders of the human world that Merlin treasured above all else.

But he knew he was alone amongst his kin in his yearnings and so Merlin concealed his precious objects. He hid them in a cave and came daily to tend to them; to polish or clean them, to stroke them lovingly. They were his only true sources of joy.

Merlin tried his best to accept his lot in life, to be satisfied with the snatches of humanity he glimpsed through the waves. But then he saw the Golden Prince and his fate was sealed.

The Golden Prince was tall and handsome. Where Merlin’s hair was dark as jet, his was light as sunshine. Where Merlin’s eyes were ocean blue, his were the colour of the sky. And where Merlin’s tail curled around him, the Prince had two strong and sturdy legs.

Oh how Merlin loved him. Every day he waited for the Prince to take his morning walk along the beach, so he could look his fill upon him. Merlin would swim inland and float in the shallows, watching the Prince’s face ripple and shimmer through the water. Later he grew bolder, putting his head above the surface to enjoy an image of the Prince undistorted by the ocean waves.

The Prince was everything that was wonderful about humans; everything mysterious and brave and beautiful that Merlin had always longed for. And one day watching wasn’t enough anymore. Merlin wanted to be where the Prince was, wanted to show his love and be loved in return. He wanted to walk out onto the beach on his own two legs and greet the Prince as an equal.

So Merlin went to the sea witch Morgana.

Morgana was an outcast from the merpeople: hated and feared in equal measure. All merfolk were gifted with magic, just enough for protection from the predators of the sea. But Morgana had gotten greedy. She had turned to dark ways to increase her power and so the merfolk had shunned her. Merlin had been warned since he was a child to never swim too close to her cavern, for fear of her wicked wiles.

But there was none other who could help him and so Merlin took Morgana his request.

“A pair of legs, sweetling?” she said, reaching out to brush his cheek with long cold fingers. “I can give you that. As fine a pair of legs as you could wish for, to go forth and enchant the Golden Prince.”

He started to thank her and she hushed him.

“But there will be a price, sweetling. First, every step you take on your new legs will bring you unbearable pain. It will be as though you walk on knives.”

Her words chilled Merlin but he was determined so he nodded bravely.

“Second, you have only three weeks to make the Prince fall in love with you. If you have not sealed your bond with a kiss by then, your life is forfeit.”

Again Merlin was chilled, but again he nodded. There was no life for him without the Prince. He was willing to do whatever it took.

Morgana smiled, her scarlet tail moving sinuously to wrap around him.

“Finally, sweetling, I must have my due. I want your voice.”

“My-my voice?” Merlin said tremulously. 

“Not forever,” Morgana said carelessly. “You will gain it back if you gain his kiss.”

“But how shall I win the favour of the Prince if I cannot speak to him?” Merlin said.

“Those are my terms,” Morgana said silkily. “What say you?”

Merlin was greatly afraid, but he hadn’t come so far to turn back now.

“I accept,” he whispered and all at once the waters seemed to bubble and hiss around him.

“Sing for me, sweetling,” Morgana crooned. “And then you shall have your legs.”

Merlin began to sing, a song his mother had taught him long ago. 

Morgana stood before him, muttering an enchantment. Then, to his horror, she reached into his open mouth and pulled out a piece of crimson thread. He faltered and she urged him to keep singing. He did as she said, watching in terror as she continued to tug the crimson thread out of his throat. The more she tugged, the weaker his voice became, and soon he could barely make a sound. With one final pull, Morgana drew the end of the thread out, and Merlin was mute. She coiled it into her hand, as he tried in vain to speak.

“There now,” she said, almost kindly. “And here’s your reward.”

A second spell fell from her lips and Merlin instantly bent double in pain. Terrified, he looked down at his tail to see the shimmering scales were falling off, piece by piece. His flipper withered and disintegrated, fading into the watery depths before his very eyes. And when all the shine was sloughed away, a terrible jagged pain took its place. Merlin cried out in agony as he watched his naked tail split slowly from the bottom. He felt bones growing where no bones had been before, cracking and settling into his tender flesh. He screamed as his tail split further apart, as skin stretched over new made limbs, as feet protruded out, snapping and twisting into shape. Merlin thought he might die with the pain and he wailed like a newborn babe, begging for it to end.

And suddenly, it did. Morgana stroked his trembling form.

“Three weeks, sweetling,” she said softly. “Win his love or die thereafter.”

Shaking, sobbing, Merlin swam to the surface.

 

***

 

It was not yet day when he crawled onto the beach and lay down to wait. His whole body felt strange and unfamiliar. He had never breathed the air up here for so long before, and it was cold and salty in his lungs. The dry sand beneath him was odd too; he had not known it could feel so gritty and so raw.

When dawn broke he crawled to find a sack to cover his nakedness, not daring yet to stand on his feet. But when he saw the Prince’s cortège in the distance, he knew he had to rise. 

Ah! It was just as Morgana had said. Every step felt like knives pricking the soles of his feet. He was pale and limping by the time the Prince drew near, and could do no more than stumble into his path.

“Hark, what this?” the Prince said cheerily. “A foundling washed up on the shore?”

Merlin opened his mouth to speak but he could only gasp out air.

“Are you unwell, sir?” the Prince asked, his demeanour changing to one of concern.

Drawn with pain, Merlin could only nod.

“Our walk ends here, gentlemen,” the Prince said swiftly. “I shall take this young man back to the castle and see him treated.”

And then he placed his arm about Merlin’s shoulder, to support him on their way.

Oh wonder! The pain in Merlin’s feet dulled into insignificance, overtaken by the sweetness of the Prince’s embrace. So warm and solid; so sturdy and human! Merlin’s heart rejoiced, knowing that the agony was all worthwhile, to be held and cherished in this way by the man he loved.

He would give his voice a thousand times over for this bliss.

 

***

 

For the next three weeks, Merlin did not leave the Prince’s side. After the physician pronounced him healthy but mute, suggesting trauma might be the root cause, the Prince decreed that Merlin should stay at the castle and recuperate. He made sure Merlin ate heartily, he gave him new clothes in soft fabrics to wear, and had him sleep on a pallet in the Prince’s own room, so that he might feel secure.

Merlin still wished he could speak to the Prince but they created a system of signs that worked well enough between them. The Prince told Merlin to call him Arthur, and the merman was sad he could not speak his own name in return. But he drew it in the sand one night and Arthur laughed delightedly.

“A perfect fit!” he said. “My little Merlin.”

And Merlin’s heart leapt.

But time was creeping on, and Arthur had not yet favoured Merlin with a kiss. On the night before three weeks were up, Merlin waited in Arthur’s chambers. He knew he had but one more chance, or the Prince would be lost to him forever. Merlin feared death, but he feared the loss of Arthur more, and so he prepared himself to let his true feelings show.

But when Arthur returned, he was terribly upset.

Merlin asked what was wrong, by placing his hand flat on Arthur’s palm.

“Oh Merlin,” the Prince said, turning sad eyes on him. “My father says I am to be betrothed to Princess Elena. But I cannot. For I love another.”

Hope bloomed in Merlin’s chest as Arthur tenderly took his hand.

“I cannot marry Elena, not while my true love fills my every waking thought. And yet my father would never approve of the match.”

Merlin tapped two fingers over Arthur’s heart, their sign for ‘it’s alright’. And it would be, once Arthur kissed him, for he could use his magic to persuade Uther, and then they could be joined forever in happiness…

“It’s not alright, but it will be,” Arthur declared. “I love my dear Mithian so. I refuse to live without her!”

A pain struck Merlin so suddenly that he thought his legs were shattering again. But the pain was in his heart, because it was broken. His beautiful Prince loved another, and he could not help the tears that flowed down his face.

“Oh, my Merlin, look how you cry for me,” Arthur said affectionately. “Fear not, little brother. I will find a way to wed Mithian yet.”

When he wrapped his arms around Merlin this time, it felt like a last embrace, and Merlin was cold down to his bones.

 

***

 

He crept out to the beach that night, knowing he would not live to greet the dawn. Wanting his last few hours alive to be spent by the sea.

But then he heard a voice call to him from the waves.

“Merlin!”

It was Gwen, his most beloved sister. She swam towards him, her arms outstretched.

“You will not die tonight, brother,” she said urgently. And she held out two items to him: a ball of thick silver twine, and a golden dagger.

“Bind the Prince’s hands with this unbreakable twine. Then plunge this magic dagger deep into his heart. Morgana’s curse will lift and you will live.”

He shook his head no, tried to protest wordlessly, but she forced them into his hands.

“It’s the only way, Merlin. Save yourself and come back to us.”

And at last he took them from her. 

Then he walked back to Arthur’s chambers, heart heavy with the knowledge of what he had to do. 

The Prince was sleeping soundly in bed, moonlight bathing his handsome face. Quiet as a mouse, Merlin climbed up to lie next to him. He nuzzled his nose into Arthur’s neck, tried to inhale his scent that he might always remember it. Then he gently tied the Prince’s hands to the bed, so he could not struggle if awoken.

Dawn was fast approaching and Merlin wept as he straddled Arthur’s body and raised the dagger. Arthur was the love of his life but it wasn’t enough. They could never be together. There was no place for them on land.

On land.

No place for them _on land_.

All at once Merlin knew what to do. 

He leaned down and finally took his kiss from the Golden Prince, moving his lips against that sweet mouth. And, at long last, his voice came flooding back to him. He laughed out loud in delight as Arthur finally awoke in his arms.

“Merlin?” he said sleepily.

Merlin slashed Arthur’s neck open; once, twice, three times.

The blood splashed crimson over the coverlet and Arthur’s eyes grew wide in terror.

“Peace, my love,” Merlin soothed. “You shall not die.”

And he used the little magic he had to stem the flow of blood; leaving three slits slashed wide in the side of Arthur’s neck.

“There’s your gills,” Merlin said happily. “And now for your tail.”

Ignoring Arthur’s desperate gurgles, Merlin pulled the Prince’s legs together and then pushed the magic dagger through his flesh, leaving little holes behind. Then he took the silver twine, and threaded it through the gaps he’d made. Soon Arthur’s legs were bound tightly together, with no space between them.

His feet would not bend outwards like a flipper should, so Merlin broke all the bones in them with the hilt of his dagger, and then reset them to his satisfaction.

He stood back from the bed to admire his handiwork. Arthur looked even more beautiful now that Merlin had shaped him this way; even more precious.

The Prince was choking out words like “No, Merlin, no, Merlin, no…” and Merlin did not like the sound of them, so he took up the twine again and sewed Arthur’s lips together.

Then Arthur truly did look perfect to Merlin. The merman pressed a kiss to his beloved’s golden hair and then lifted him into his arms, heading back towards the sea.

 

***

 

His brothers and sisters did not speak to Merlin anymore. Even Morgana asked him never to return after she spake the spell that restored his tail, her voice trembling and weak.

Merlin didn’t mind. He was happy now, content in a way he never was before. He spent his days singing and swimming, and he no longer drifted to the surface to gaze upon the human world above.

Instead he floated to his cave to admire his collection. His gleaming goblets, his shiny mirrors, his polished trinkets. 

And Arthur of course, beautiful golden Arthur, perched atop a driftwood throne. 

Merlin’s magic kept him alive but he could not swim, could not move, could not speak. Merlin loved him anyway. He combed his hair and stroked his face and tapped two fingers over the Prince’s heart.

“It’s alright, Arthur,” he said. “It’s alright. It’s alright. It’s alright.”


	3. Redbeard

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning for murder, gore.

In a small cottage at the edge of the woods, there lived a widow and her son. They led a modest, simple life – the widow took in embroidery and the son picked herbs to sell at market, and they were both of them very happy.

But one day the widow took ill and called her son to her bedside, knowing she hadn’t long left.

“Merlin,” she said – for that was his name. “I want you to take this poppet. It will protect you when I am no longer here.”

And she handed him a tiny doll, made of flax and twine.

“The poppet will keep you safe. No mortal harm can come to you when it is near. Look to it if trouble ever comes to your door.”

Merlin promised that he would and the widow smiled, content that her beloved son would be safe without her. She slipped away that very night and Merlin wept bitterly, mourning the loss of his dear mother.

But he heeded her words and kept the poppet close. For five long years he lived alone in the cottage, protected from mortal harm by his mother’s last gift.

 

***

 

It so happened that at this time there was another orphan living not far away from the cottage in the woods. His name was Arthur, though many called him Redbeard. No-one knew quite how he came about this name; for his hair was yellow as corn and no beard adorned his handsome face.

He lived in a beautiful house by the river – alone since the tragic disappearance of his parents four years before. Tragic, but not unusual, for this was a town which had seen many disappearances in recent years; particularly of young men. Folk had taken to buying good luck charms and amulets, painting runes on their doors to ward away evil spirits. None could explain why so many disappeared without a trace, and thus many a lucky token could be seen in a window, placed there in hope and fear.

As these were dark times indeed, all the townsfolk felt Arthur should not be alone in that big old house.

“A pity,” they sighed. “Such a nice young man.”

 

One day Merlin was selling his wares in the town market when the man known as Redbeard approached. He was wearing an opulent cloak, a beautiful red hat with a white plume, and in his hand he carried a posy of fresh flowers.

“With my compliments,” he said, presenting the flowers to Merlin with a flourish. “For I have not yet made your acquaintance. My name is Arthur.”

“Merlin,” the younger man replied, blushing.

“A beautiful name for a beautiful man,” Arthur said smoothly and Merlin ducked his head in pleasure. “Have you any herbs to cure a headache, Merlin?” 

Merlin readily gave him a tincture of willow bark. Arthur drank it in one and declared himself to be cured. He stayed by Merlin’s side and talked to him for the rest of the day, helping him pack away his goods when night fell.

The next week Arthur came again and asked for herbs to cure a fever. Merlin gave him a tincture of skullcap, and Arthur drank it down in one. Again he declared himself to be cured, and again he stayed to while away the hours at Merlin’s side.

This continued for some time until one week Arthur let out a great sigh.

“Tell me, Merlin, have you any medicine to cure love?”

“I do not believe love needs a cure, sir,” Merlin replied.

“But it does, and only you can give it to me,” Arthur proclaimed. “Marry me, Merlin, and cure me forever!”

Merlin assented with great joy and the handfasting was set for one week hence. Many of the townsfolk turned out to see the ceremony, though none knew Merlin well. But they wished the young orphan the best.

“Such a nice young man,” they said. “How glad we are.”

 

And so Arthur took Merlin to live with him in the beautiful house by the river. Merlin asked to be allowed to keep his cottage, all he had left of his dear mother, and Arthur agreed.

“I would grant you anything you asked for, my love,” he said. “And in return you must do the same. Once a month I must journey to the coast to trade at the harbour. I will leave you this little key, which will open every door in the house. But Merlin, I must ask you never to open the red door in the east wing. All our lives together, you must promise me you will never venture inside.”

Merlin promised at once, glad to agree. What was one locked door compared to all the love and kindness his betrothed had shown him thus far?

And so it was that they settled into life together. Once a month Arthur went away and Merlin faithfully travelled to stay in his mother’s cottage, away from the temptation of the red door.

But after a year of blissful happiness, something changed. The snow fell so heavily on the morning of Arthur’s departure that Merlin was unable to journey through the woods to his old cottage. And being alone in the house lead to unwanted thoughts.

Why did his husband make such a request of him?

What was the secret that the red door guarded?

How wrong would it be to take a single peek inside?

Merlin tried to chase such wonderings from his mind, but they would not leave him. He resolved to retire to bed early, to hasten Arthur’s return to him the next day.

But he roused suddenly at midnight, as though a voice had called for him. Next to his pillow, the little key gleamed in the moonlight.

As if in a trance, Merlin took up the key and slipped from his bed. He crept through the dark house, only a single candle to light his way. When he reached the east wing he paused, remembering his husband’s words.

_Promise me._

But as if compelled by some higher power, Merlin walked forward and fitted the key to the lock.

With shaking hand he pushed the door open, only to find the room too dark to see within. Frowning, he raised his candle and stepped inside.

What horrors awaited him there!

For the room was filled with bodies! All the young men that the town had thought lost, here lay slain! Some strangled, some stabbed and some beheaded. Some still fleshy and rotting, some no more than a pile of bones. Some with their faces twisted in fear, eyes bulging and mouths open, as though the terror of their deaths lived on. 

His husband had killed them all!

Merlin stumbled back in shock and the key fell from his hand and onto the bloodstained floor below. Stooping to pick it up, Merlin took one last look at the grisly sight and fled. He locked the door and made for his own bed, his heart thumping in his chest. Arthur was not the man he thought he was. All had changed, and he did not know what would become of them.

He fell into a restless sleep, tossing and turning all night. When he awoke the next morning, the sunlight showed what the night had concealed: the little key was stained with blood. But when he tried to wipe it clean, it would not yield. Merlin scrubbed and scrubbed till his hands were sore; even washing the key in the freshly fallen snow outside. But his labours were in vain. The key would not come clean, and Merlin trembled to think that Arthur might see, and know what he had done.

 

***

 

When his husband came home that night, full of gaiety and bearing gifts from the newly docked ships, Merlin put on an expression of great joy to hide his heavy heart. He lived in fear of the moment Arthur would ask for the key back, as he always did on his return.

It was late into the eve when Arthur finally made the request.

Merlin’s heart beat fast.

“I must have left it in the pantry,” he said.

“Then bring it forth,” Arthur said jovially.

“Perhaps tomorrow I could-”

“Merlin,” Arthur said. “Bring it forth now.”

Quaking, Merlin collected the little key and presented it to his beloved.

Arthur was silent as he held it up to the light.

“Husband,” said he. “What’s this stain upon my key?”

“I… I cut my finger,” poor Merlin said, his voice quivering.

“Show me the cut,” came the reply.

And without waiting for an answer, he grabbed Merlin’s hands, inspecting them roughly.

“I see no cut, husband,” he said.

“It… it must be the blood of a rabbit I cooked last night.”

“Show me the skin,” Arthur said, and he drew Merlin into the kitchen. But there was nothing to show.

“I see no rabbit skin, husband,” he said.

Merlin threw himself to his knees.

“Please, Arthur, have mercy!”

Arthur looked coldly down on the shivering man.

“So. You opened the red door and it revealed its secrets to you.”

“I didn’t mean to-”

“Very well. You’ve seen the men there, and now you may join them!”

And Arthur took Merlin by the hair and dragged him through the house, pleading and crying all the way. When they reached the red door he flung it open, and pushed Merlin down to kneel among the bodies and the bones.

“Do you know how I came by the name Redbeard, Merlin?”

And he ran his hands along the walls till they were slick with blood, and smeared them across his cheeks and chin, until a grisly crimson beard adorned his face.

Merlin screamed at the monstrous sight.

“Oh please husband, don’t kill me! Spare my life, I beg you!”

But Arthur was immune to pleas. He took up an axe from the wall and raised it high.

“Prepare to meet your maker!”

“Wait!” Merlin cried. “If I’m to die, at least bring me back to my cottage home. Let me be buried with my mother’s poppet, her last gift to me, else my soul will go unquiet to the grave.”

Arthur was a man without pity, but he was not entirely without superstition.

“Very well,” he said. “We go now and you will surely perish on our arrival.”

And with that he pulled Merlin from the room and dragged him weeping through the forest. The woods were dark and silent, all creatures already abed, and the moon barely shone through the hooded trees. The key still dangled from Arthur’s hand, dropping fresh drips of blood in the pure white snow.

When they reached the little cottage, Arthur fixed a cold eye upon his errant husband.

“Where is the poppet?”

“Hung up in the back room,” Merlin replied softly.

Drawing Merlin alongside, Arthur crossed the room and ripped open the door. For a moment, all was dark and he could only see the poppet dangling within. Then his eyes adjusted and he let out a startled cry.

For this room, too, was full of bodies!

Five year’s worth of decomposing remains, neatly arranged within the tiny space. And right at the back, Arthur recognised the rotting faces of his own two parents!

He looked back at Merlin, who trembled no more in his arms, whose eyes were quite dry and steady.

“W-what means this?” he stammered and Merlin smiled.

“I could find no words to tell you, so I thought it best you see yourself.”

He gestured to the rows of corpses.

“When my mother died, she left me a poppet to protect me from all mortal harm. I soon discovered how useful a gift this was. For it means no man can stop me when I wind my rope around their neck, or plunge my knife into their beating heart.” 

He faced Arthur calmly.

“You cannot kill me, husband. But I do not desire to kill you either. For our hearts are twinned in wickedness, and we have no more cause to hide it. Let us join together in sin. Let no young man leave our path unscathed.”

And with these words he dipped his hand into the blood pooled on the floor of the back room, and smeared a red beard of his own onto his pretty face.

Then he kissed his husband fiercely and Arthur kissed back, the taste of blood sharp and heady on both their lips.

 

***

 

In a land not so far away, there is a beautiful house by a river. There live Arthur and Merlin, happily married for many years. 

The townsfolk like to pass by and see the tidy path, the tended garden, the little flax poppet in the window. But none have been inside, save for the young men invited round for supper, and they never seem to return to share their tale.

The townsfolk are sure that they receive the utmost hospitality, however.

“After all,” they say. “Arthur and Merlin are such nice young men.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading!


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